


The Warrior's Challenge

by The_Lady_Crane



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Kirby (Video Games), Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dismemberment, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Freaky puffball-on-human sex, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Male Slash, Non-Graphic Violence, Sex In A Cave, Sex for Favors, Stranger Sex, Virgin Sacrifice, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 18:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12563032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lady_Crane/pseuds/The_Lady_Crane
Summary: Legend has it that a monster resides on top of the mountain, willing to fight anyone who challenges him. If you lose to him, though, you must give something up: your life, or a part of yourself. A young man ascends the mountain to take this challenge, but he's determined to return intact - no matter what it takes.





	The Warrior's Challenge

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, another MKxM. No, I'm not sorry... OK, maybe a little. But I can't help it! It's a compulsion! Don't hurt me! 
> 
> Anyway, this is just another thought that popped into my head. Meta Knight is a bit more violent in this one than he normally would be, hence the AU tag. Other than that, what can I say? It's smut. Have fun!

High in the mountains, there lives a warrior. This warrior never comes down to socialize with fellow swordsmen, or to slay monsters; in fact, he is a monster himself. Rumored to have lived for a thousand years, he has honed his skill at swordplay and is now said to be unbeatable. Few who go to challenge him ever come back whole, for he always exacts a penalty. The losers must make a choice – their lives, or their bodies. Most return missing a hand, an arm, a leg; if the loser wants to live, he or she must give something up in return.  

But challenge him they do, hoping for fame or glory or just to prove they can. They come in a steady trickle, rumors of his might inflaming the hearts of young and old alike. They come with swords, with axes, with hammers, all intending to kill him and bring back the mask he always wears. One such young challenger makes his way even now up the treacherous mountain path. He can see evidence of the hopeful challengers who failed to make the journey; bones lie strewn about the landscape, crushed under fallen rocks or showing evidence of savagery at the hands of some beast. The sight gives him pause, but he does not stop.

He is a nobleman’s son, well dressed in fine clothes in the blue colors of his homeland. Though he is not large or burly by any stretch of the imagination, it is obvious that he is strong. His lithe legs carry him easily over the rocky road, his shoulders straight and showing no sign of weariness. He is young – only nineteen – but his face is troubled and he seems older than his age.

It is nearly sunset when he reaches the summit. It’s been a long, hard day since he set out from the village at the foot of the mountain, and he stops to rest against a boulder overlooking the valley. It’s quite a sight. Clouds roll in wispy rivers below, obscuring the dark trees. The sky stretches between the mountains, dark blue fading to orange and gold and purple. The air up here is clear, and the boy takes a moment to breathe deeply. He is so absorbed in the atmosphere that he doesn’t notice the creature behind him until it speaks.

“Who dares to come here?” a deep, rumbling voice catches the boy’s attention. He turns sharply, his cloak swirling behind him.

The boy straightens up, looking right into the glowing yellow eyes behind the slit in the creature’s mask. He’s not as large as the boy thought he would be, but he’s no less intimidating. He is perfectly spherical, standing about waist-high to the boy, and he’s wearing battle-scarred armor of heavy make. He already has his sword in his hand. “I am Marth, of Altea,” he says. “My father has sent me to challenge you.”

“Your father sent you? Has he not the courage to come himself?”

“He fought you long ago,” Marth says. “You took his eye, and so I have come to avenge him.”

“Hm. Very well. You are aware of the terms of such a challenge?”

“Yes. I am prepared.”

There is no hesitation in Marth’s eyes, and Meta Knight takes up his starting stance. They charge simultaneously, and the clash of their swords rings through the valley.

For a time, they appear to be evenly matched. Marth has studied the art of the sword all his life, and his style is different from anything Meta Knight has seen before. He fights almost as if he’s dancing, striking in quick succession and dodging with flourishing turns that are perfectly executed. Meta Knight allows the battle to go on for a bit, admiring the way the boy moves.

Experience begins to win out, though, as Meta Knight grows tired of dodging and blocking. His attacks become more aggressive, forcing Marth to conserve his strength for defense. Even as he begins to lose ground, there is no fear in him; only the thrill of battle, the excitement that grows in the heat of conflict. Neither has felt this exhilarated in a long time.

Finally, Marth charges with his sword pointed straight out. Meta Knight leaps aside, throws his cape around himself, and appears behind Marth in an instant, catching the boy off guard as he knocks his sword out of his hand. The boy falls to his hands and knees.

They freeze for a moment, Galaxia’s tip inches from Marth’s throat, and Marth closes his eyes in resignation. “You really are… the strongest…” he pants.

“You have lost,” Meta Knight says. For some reason, he’s feeling a little disappointed. “If you desire to return to your father, choose what it is you will give me in return for sparing your life.”

Marth thinks for a moment. He has already decided what he will offer, but he’s not sure it will play out as he hopes. Looking up into the hidden face, he says, “I will give you my body.”

The yellow eyes flash green, and Meta Knight lowers his sword. “Your body?”

Marth nods, swallowing hard. This is the one thing he can offer that will not leave a physical mark. His shame will be his own, not for others to balk at. It was not his choice to come here, but he will choose to walk away with his body intact, even if it is violated.

“What do you mean by that?” Meta Knight asks.

The boy blushes. He hadn’t counted on having to spell it out. He stands, unfastening the clasp to his cape and spreading it out on the ground. It takes him a few moments to undo the straps and buckles holding his armor together, light though it is. His pauldrons and breastplate, scabbard, satchel, belt, boots, and overcoat take a while to remove. Finally, he’s left in his pants and undershirt, and he hesitates.

By now, Meta Knight has decided that the boy means to give up his life. He readies Galaxia, planning where he will strike. Naked skin is revealed to him as Marth takes off the rest of his clothing, and he can’t help but admire the smoothness of the lean body. It will be a shame to take a life so young, but the boy is asking for it.

Once Marth is totally nude, he lies on his outspread cape. Meta Knight wonders at this display – perhaps it’s some kind of suicide ritual in Altea. Then Marth looks over at him, spreads his legs, and says, “Please… enjoy my body as you like…”

It takes a moment for Meta Knight to realize that the boy does not mean to be killed. “So, I am to select which part of you to excise?” he asks.

“No. You can have all of it…” Marth blushes, looking up at the stars that are just beginning to flicker into sight.

“Then you intend to die?”

“I’m offering you my virginity,” Marth sighs. It takes some willpower not to tremble; he knows it’s a risky gamble. If he offends the warrior, he will be sliced in half. Still, he would rather die than live the rest of his life with physical proof of his father’s desire for honor. He would gladly lose a limb, if only to protect someone else. For glory, though, for bragging rights? It would be a bitter blow.

Meta Knight almost steps back in his shock. Of all the fighters who have come here to face him, not one has ever offered something like this. He considers the situation for a moment. The boy is certainly beautiful, and Meta Knight wouldn’t have minded having a go at him under any other circumstances. If they had met in a tavern somewhere, if Marth had given him a surreptitious look from behind his raised flagon, if he’d brushed against him as he’d walked towards the doorway…

The warrior’s cock stirs in its sheath. Yes, in that case, he wouldn’t hesitate to take him for a roll in the hay. But this is very different. It almost feels as if the boy is trying to cheat Meta Knight out of taking a prize. If they lay together, he will descend the mountain without having given anything up.

A slight tremor makes its way up the boy’s thighs. Meta Knight’s eyes narrow. Perhaps he would be giving up more than it seems, he thinks. And it has been a while… More than 200 years, by the warrior’s estimate.

“Get up,” he finally says. Marth’s expression is one of confusion when he follows the command, but he doesn’t back away as Meta Knight approaches him. “Not here. Follow me.”

Gathering up his clothes, Marth’s mind is reeling. The beast actually went for it. He doesn’t know if he should be relieved or not. It can’t hurt as badly as losing a limb, he supposes. Perhaps if he closes his eyes and imagines that it’s someone else, he can even enjoy himself. He follows the warrior, wrapped in his cloak against the biting wind.

They head for a trail cut into the side of the mountain. Marth wishes he had put on his boots, at least; it is rocky and uneven, hard on the soft soles of his feet, but soon he finds himself being led into a cavern not far from the mountain’s peak. The floor here is sandy, and he sighs in relief as it cushions his sore feet. Looking around, he can see this is clearly where the warrior has made his home. There are roughly-woven mats spread on the floor, tattered with age. The walls of the cave have been rubbed smooth, and shelves have been chiseled into them to hold pots and pans, a few clay dishes, buckets, and various other things that somehow seem too domestic for a monster such as Meta Knight. A pit in the center of the room contains a fire that sends a thin trail of smoke up into a funnel in the ceiling.

At the back of the cavern, which grows narrower as it continues, is a bed. Marth is surprised to see that it is a proper bed, a wooden frame supporting a real mattress. A blue cloth is spread over it, topped with a fur-lined blanket. There’s even a pillow, though it is worn-looking.

“Sit,” Meta Knight says, motioning to the bed. Marth does so as Meta Knight takes his clothes and boots and armor, laying them aside next to a wooden chest. “You are serious about this?” he asks.

“Yes.” No hesitation. Only a small, barely-noticeable spark of fear – and something like curiosity.

“Then lie down.”

Marth is used to taking orders, and he obeys immediately. He closes his eyes as he feels the warrior’s weight settle between his legs. The mattress is stuffed with straw and chaff; it rustles as Meta Knight gets into position. Marth bites his lower lip, willing his legs to stay open despite the sudden instinct rising in him to snap them together and kick with all his might. Such an action would certainly earn him no favors, and if he submits perhaps Meta Knight will refrain from tearing him apart from the inside.

A surprised squeak – most undignified, and not nearly as manly as he’d have liked it to be – escapes when he feels soft pressure on the inside of his thigh. He chances a look down; Meta Knight is stroking his smooth skin carefully, and Marth’s face heats up when their gazes lock. Framed by the visor in the mask, the warrior’s eyes glow an unnatural gold that is brighter than the fire. While there is a soft light illuminating everything in the room, casting deep and shifting shadows and giving the scene a dreamlike quality, Meta Knight’s eyes are like lanterns burning full blast. Marth can feel his intensity, even as his hands begin to explore in a way that is surprisingly gentle.

Meta Knight almost laughs at the boy’s reaction. He is most definitely a virgin. The warrior doesn’t stop caressing his thighs, but his touch becomes firmer as he goes. He prefers his lovers to be willing, and he’s confident he can coax the boy into giving himself up without fear. Perhaps he can even get him to beg for it. That is an amusing thought, one that keeps him focused on slowly but surely arousing the young swordsman.

Marth almost moans when Meta Knight feels up his sides, to his chest, where the monster finds all of the most sensitive areas. He has removed his gloves, but none of his armor; the contrast between his fierce appearance and his caring touch is unexpected. Marth feels his fear melting away under the knight’s expert hands.

The foreplay is brief. As soon as Marth begins to tremble, a telltale blush spreading across his face and chest, Meta Knight zeroes in on the area that has most captured his interest. The boy’s moans are sweet to Meta Knight’s ears, and he prepares him almost lovingly – but without wasting any time.

When Meta Knight enters him, Marth can’t suppress his gasping breaths. This is really happening. It’s a dizzying experience, made all the more intense by the warrior’s ferocious reputation. Marth is very aware that the man easing his way inside is a monster who has slaughtered hundreds. He has to remind himself that he didn’t want to be here. He tries to bear the pressure, the fiery passion, with dignity and a bit of indignation, but it’s a lost cause. As the knight drives his way in, Marth can’t deny that it feels good. He watches in amazement as he is filled, as his body takes all that Meta Knight has to give. All he can do is claw at the sheets as heat spreads throughout his limbs.

Soon the two are locked together, Marth’s cries growing in volume as pleasure takes him by surprise. Meta Knight finds himself lost as well, beholden to his instincts. He hasn’t felt this way since he was young, many centuries ago. Back then he was capable of letting go of his self-control and enjoying the moment. Experience has hardened him, but now he feels free again.

Marth can feel the warrior’s control go slack. His hips are gripped tightly, the thick cock inside him making his head spin. He reaches climax with embarrassing swiftness, but Meta Knight is smirking under his mask. He’s still got it. The warrior grips Marth’s thighs, pushes them apart, spreads him further so he can force his way deeper inside. Once the last few spurts of fluid have landed across Marth’s abdomen, he becomes almost insensate as Meta Knight picks up speed. Marth watches the length disappear and reappear between his legs in dazed fascination. Suddenly, Meta Knight growls and his grip becomes almost unbearably hard. His eyes glow bright purple, then flash white. Marth lets out a soft sound as he feels a new warmth deep inside his body. The knight remains rigid for what seems like an eternity, though it must only be a few seconds. Then he eases himself out.

The contract fulfilled, Meta Knight allows himself to rest for a moment. He wants to ask if the boy is alright, but it seems that Marth has already begun to drift off to sleep. Meta Knight allows it. He has performed admirably, and has certainly given Meta Knight something more enjoyable than an arm or a leg.

When Marth finally makes his way down the mountain, early the next morning, he can’t help looking back. The warrior is watching him from the peak.

The boy tells himself he will never return.  

XXXXXX

High in the mountains, there lives a warrior. This warrior never comes down to socialize with fellow swordsmen, or to slay monsters; he has no need to. A young man from a noble family often makes his way up the mountain, and remains there for days at a time. Those who are familiar with the legendary beast say that he finally found his match. Some believe that there is no monster, that the young noble defeated him long ago. Others say that the monster was sealed away, and the nobleman is there to maintain the protective barrier.

It’s all the same to Meta Knight. He has indeed met his match, though not in battle.


End file.
